


Cure

by AuroraNova



Series: The Vadari Chronicles [20]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Medical Mystery, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: "I can’t worry about my seven and a half hours of sleep while my best friend’s son is dying!”When the O'Briens need him, Julian isn't going to let a distance of several dozen lightyears stop him from helping. Garak would like to see him take better care of himself in the process.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Miles O'Brien, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: The Vadari Chronicles [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1336183
Comments: 18
Kudos: 177





	Cure

There is something greatly pleasing about the simple act of sleeping in the same bed, quite apart from any sexual activities which occur in said bed. Garak never found the idea appealing before Julian. Then again, before Julian, he had eschewed the few opportunities for such closeness which presented themselves.

He trusts Julian enough to be willingly unconscious in his presence. Further, he is allowing himself to appreciate these aspects of life he’d long been denied, by either Tain or himself in an effort to please his father. One such joy is lying in bed before sleep with Julian half-sprawled on his chest, as Julian particularly likes, or simply holding each other, as they are now.

Even the tamest korak will bite, nevertheless. Or, as humans say, every rose has its thorn. This is a questionable choice of words. As Garak understands Terran flora (he filled many lonely hours on the station with cultural research), roses grow with multiple thorns. The flower is outnumbered by them, which entirely changes the metaphor, and though Julian says that’s not the point Garak thinks humans should craft their adages more carefully. Regardless, the korak bite or rose thorn(s) in this case relate to Garak being an exceptionally light sleeper.

Julian is on call for another three hours. He wasn’t scheduled to be, but he is covering this evening for his friend Dr. Traala, and Garak will be put out if Julian’s favor interrupts his own sleep. Only slightly, since this is the same doctor who switched shifts so Julian could be home when Garak suffered his anaphylactic reaction, but still irked regardless.

There is also the matter of Julian’s present overthinking.

“If you insist on lying here awake and fretting, kindly do so with minimal movement,” says Garak. Human ‘tossing and turning’ is quite unlike Cardassian sleep and disruptive to Garak’s. Fortunately, Julian is not prone to it once he falls asleep. He does, however, have tendencies in that direction when awake, and he is more likely to be awake when he’s worrying himself over something.

Julian huffs. “What happened to your light sleeping not being my responsibility?”

“That was before we shared a bed.”

“Fine. I’ll do my best impression of rigor mortis for you.”

Garak chooses not to dignify that with a response.

At last Julian has pronounced his paper on a Trill-Klingon baby complete. Seeing as it’s his memorial to Jadzia Dax, he’s imposed standards even higher than usual on it, to the point Garak started to wonder if he was ever going to finish tinkering. He finally did tonight, and as it transpired, this was not the end of the matter. Now he is debating where to submit it. The paper would be a good fit for the _Interspecies Medical Journal_ , Julian feels, but will the editors even consider his work? Perhaps he’s overreaching for such a prestigious journal.

Garak pointed out that there is nothing to be done other than submit the paper and wait for a response. This remark was not well-received, and he has accepted that Julian’s concerns over anti-Augment bias are to be respected and handled with greater care. (The Starfleet discharge changed everything in this regard.) Julian does the same for Garak’s own delicate subjects, after all.

In any event, Julian likes to make decisions before sleep, and this one may take some time. Hence Garak’s concern about movement.

As soon as the computer chimes, Julian starts getting out of bed, saying, “That’s Miles.” He assigned Chief O’Brien and Lieutenant Dax individual tones for live calls and is loath to miss such communication. There will be no sleeping, then. Garak sighs to indicate the inconvenience, though the effort is wasted on Julian.

He puts on his robe and follows Julian into the common room. If he is going to be awake, he might as well continue his search for a more reliable supplier of Betazoid chiffon.

“Hello… Miles?” Julian’s tone turns concerned. Garak picks up a padd and shamelessly eavesdrops. Julian will hardly be surprised, and if O’Brien has even half the sense Garak thinks he does, neither will he.

“It’s Yoshi,” says O’Brien, sounding very distressed indeed. For all his faults, the chief is devoted to his family. “The doctors at San Francisco Children’s Hospital don’t even know what’s wrong. Some of the top pediatricians on the planet and he’s just getting worse.”

“Send me everything you have,” says Julian.

“Thank God. I have his file. May have threatened to hack their computers if they didn’t hand it over.” Garak finds himself wholeheartedly agreeing with the chief on this particular course of action, a rare occurrence indeed.

“Miles,” Julian speaks gently, in a way Garak knows means he has bad news. “I can only promise to try.”

“I know.”

If Kirayoshi dies, this friendship will never be the same. Likely neither Julian nor O’Brien is thinking of that at the moment. Garak, ever the realist, is. He knows how deeply Julian values O’Brien and how much he fears the fading away of their friendship as time and distance carry them apart, not an unreasonable concern in the least. Julian hasn’t said as much, but he hasn’t needed to. His impatience to have holosuite access again so he and O’Brien can enjoy the new synchronized holographic technology is not solely out of a desire for inane adventures, though that’s certainly part of it. If there is one person from Deep Space Nine besides Garak himself with whom Julian desperately wants to remain connected, it is Miles O’Brien (no disrespect to Lieutenant Dax).

“Try not to threaten his doctors again,” advises Julian. “They’re naturally going to be skeptical about a family friend trying to interfere with their patient long-distance, but if you’re polite about it, that will help.”

“Right,” says O’Brien.

“I have the file. Keep me updated and send as much as you can. If speaking with me will make his team feel better about sharing information, have them comm.”

“Julian.” O’Brien starts to say more, then settled for, “Thanks.”

“Of course.” And that is perfectly Julian, isn’t it? There is no question that he will do everything in his power to save his friend’s child, the dozens of lightyears separating them notwithstanding. He doesn’t see any need for thanks because he cannot conceive of doing anything else.

“I have to go, but I’ll route your comms through my combadge so you can reach me anytime.”

“I’ll do everything I can,” promises Julian.

“I know.” And with that, O’Brien ends the call.

Julian wastes no time immersing himself in Kirayoshi’s medical file. Garak half-heartedly looks for fabric vendors while devoting more of his attention to watching Julian. As limited as Garak’s knowledge of the medical profession is, he is extremely well versed in reading Julian. All the little signs of concern, from the way Julian’s brow furrows to the haste with which he highlights certain sections, add up to inform Garak that the case is quite serious.

“Don’t wait up, Elim.”

Garak doesn’t bother to protest. There’s no point, so he goes to bed.

In the morning he emerges from the bedroom to find Julian asleep on the couch, feet hanging over the armrest in a manner which does not look remotely comfortable.

“Elim?” Ah, Julian is just waking up. He hasn’t yet cleared the sleep from his voice. Cardassians don’t have a particular voice in this manner, but the transition to alertness also happens much faster.

“Good morning, dear. I do hope you slept for more than a single hour.”

Julian looks at the clock. “Yes. A full sleep cycle.”

“And how long is that?”

“Ninety minutes.” Now somber and more awake, Julian says, “It’s bad. Yoshi’s body is attacking itself like some kind of rapid-onset, aggressive autoimmune disorder, but it doesn’t fit any known condition. I wish I could work on his case all day, but he has doctors on Earth and I have patients relying on me here.”

There is not much Garak can do, but he thinks of one thing. “Well, it’s your night to make dinner, but I can see to that while you address more important matters.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

* * *

The following morning, after Garak once again goes to bed alone and finds Julian on the couch, he says, “Wouldn’t you sleep better in our bed?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

It’s unavoidable. Garak is roused by the slightest noises and movements, and he appreciates Julian’s efforts not to disturb him. He is, however, capable of falling back to sleep. “I will manage. Now, I’d have to ask a doctor to be certain, but I suspect humans are supposed to have more than a single sleep cycle per night.”

“I can get by. It’s more than I got sometimes on the _Defiant_.”

As Garak recalls, artificial stimulants were utilized there, and Julian had concerns for the crew’s health all the same. “Is Kirayoshi’s situation truly so dire?”

“He’s getting worse, even when given exactly the treatments which ought to at least relieve his symptoms. Which means we’re missing an underlying problem. I can’t worry about my seven and a half hours of sleep while my best friend’s son is dying!”

No, he can’t. Very well. Despite lacking experience or any sort of examples he might emulate, Garak strives to be the life partner Julian deserves. In this case, he believes that means quietly supporting Julian’s efforts at long-distance medicine. “At least allow me to make you a hearty breakfast,” he says. “Surely you will be sharper when well-fed.”

“Thank you, Elim.” A quick brush of Julian’s fingertips over his left eye ridge, and Julian is checking his messages for an update from O’Brien.

It’s a slow business day at the shop. Mondays generally are for reasons Garak has not yet determined. This gives him time to consider ways in which he might rise to the occasion for Julian. It’s not the sort of thing for which Garak is remotely prepared, though he is doing his best. He knows that Julian enjoys kisses, even when they are brief and entirely unconnected to sexual activity; that when his shift at the hospital runs late he appreciates coming home to prepared food awaiting him in the stasis unit; and that dusting is his least favorite chore. These pieces of information give Garak actions he can undertake in service.

He’s already taken over all cooking and household chores while Julian devotes every waking hours not spent seeing patients at the hospital, and a great deal of hours which ought not to be waking, to Kirayoshi’s illness. Now Garak considers how he might expand upon this.

On Mondays, in deference to the usual lack of business, he closes his shop early. This gives him the afternoon free to do with as he pleases, barring a backlog in orders or troublesome paperwork. (Which nearly always comes from Triax. He’s long since given up hope of obtaining Triaxian silk with any reliability.) Today he obtains groceries, evades interrogation by known gossipmonger Marla Connor, and returns to the apartment with the outline of a plan.

By the time Julian returns, dinner is ready to be eaten, the bed has freshly laundered sheets, and Garak has repaired a loose circuit in the stasis unit which threatened to become problematic. He’s also researched emerging fashion trends for the sector, but that’s of less immediate relevance.

“Dinner smells delicious,” says Julian as he takes off his jacket.

It smells insufficiently seasoned to Garak. Chicken is such a boring meat, even with the addition of lemon, garlic, and herbs. He would prefer more garlic at the very least. Julian, however, insists that using an entire bulb for a single meal is excessive to the point of revolting, so Garak restrained himself tonight. He’ll add dried spices to his own portion.

“Try to taste it,” he chides gently.

Julian does, and then goes directly back to work. Garak does not disturb him for three and a half hours, at which point he clears his throat several times until Julian looks up. “Yes?”

“I am going to bed soon.”

“I’m not.”

“I had no doubt. Perhaps you have time for a brief reprieve?”

“I can give you a few minutes. I’m sorry I’m neglecting you.”

“You misunderstand, my dear.” He lays his hands on Julian’s shoulders. “You’re very tense. I thought I might be able to help.” Garak has never given a massage before. Humans find them relaxing, he understands, and Julian certainly needs to relax. It seems worth an attempt. “Feel free to offer constructive criticism. I won’t be offended.”

“A little harder, if you would. Yes, that’s lovely. Mmm.”

It’s enjoyable to touch Julian’s body, as always. In this case Garak takes great satisfaction in the pleasure he’s giving Julian, in the soft moans he elicits and the way Julian’s tense muscles slowly loosen. In the grand scheme of things, Garak can do very little to ease Julian’s burden, but he can do this.

Five minutes later, Julian says, “Thank you, Elim. That was lovely.”

Garak takes this as a cue to stop. “Do come to bed when you’re ready to sleep,” he says.

Julian nods and goes back to his padds, leaving Garak alone with a disquieting sense of uselessness.

* * *

This week Julian does not have to work Tuesday and Wednesday, to his great relief at being able to devote himself entirely to Kirayoshi’s case. He’s already cancelled his usual racquetball game with Kara Whitsell and doesn’t wait to finish breakfast before checking his messages.

No sooner has he opened his mail than he swears. “What?” asks Garak.

“Yoshi’s doctors did the test I asked for.”

“And the results are bad?”

“The results are fine. I was ruling out an extremely rare condition.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

“They’re being too accommodating of me. I’m barging in on their patient and they’re just going with my suggestions without even asking to speak to me in person.” He runs a hand through his hair, a peculiar human outlet for excess energy Garak will never understand. “Letting me make stabs in the dark almost certainly means they have low confidence they can help him.”

“Ah. I see.”

Julian probably doesn’t taste his breakfast. Garak doesn’t mention it.

Wednesday proceeds much the same. Garak, seeing Julian’s obvious exhaustion, decides something must be done. He closes his shop early and returns home, where he gets Julian to eat a sandwich and then suggests, “Have you considered taking a nap? I’m sure sleep is supposed to help mental acuity.”

Julian can get by on less than optimal sleep for a short period of time thanks to his genetic enhancements. He cannot survive on ninety minutes a night indefinitely, never mind function at optimal levels, and he knows it as well as Garak even if he would prefer not to face the fact. He sighs. “I should follow the advice I’d give to a patient, shouldn’t I?”

“I believe you’ve answered your own question.”

“Alright. I’ll set an alarm.”

Once Julian goes to bed, Garak waits ten minutes, then uses the main computer to access the alarm. It’s not difficult. Julian has allotted himself another hour and a half. Garak resets the alarm for three hours. He passes those hours reading and congratulates himself on looking after Julian’s wellbeing. Julian has tendencies to martyrdom which require careful watching. Fortunately, Garak is up for the task.

Three hours later, Julian emerges from the bedroom, uses the restroom, sits down at the computer – and is promptly towering over the couch where Garak sits. His face is thunderous. “You reset my alarm.”

“Yes, I did.” There’s no point in denying it. And isn’t it a neat solution? Julian got much-needed rest without any need to feel guilty over abandoning Kirayoshi. He can blame it on Garak, who will happily accept responsibility for ensuring Julian’s own health is not entirely neglected.

“That is completely unacceptable.”

“Well, someone has to take care of you, and you aren’t doing it yourself.” Garak isn’t even sure Julian would be eating consistently if meals didn’t appear in front of him.

“Not the point, Elim! You can’t just… just sneak in and manipulate me to get the results you want, even if you think you have good reason. That’s not how relationships work!” Oh, dear. Julian is truly angry, isn’t he? Clearly he doesn’t appreciate Garak’s shouldering of blame. This is not going at all as planned.

“So I am supposed to sit by and watch you work yourself to exhaustion and physical breakdown? Is that how relationships work, Julian?”

Garak doesn’t think he’s asking for too much. He isn’t expecting Julian’s attention, only for Julian to show some modicum of concern for his own body’s needs. That hardly seems unreasonable.

Julian paces like Garak has never seen him before. “What do you want me to do? Yoshi doesn’t have the luxury of time. His body is killing itself. At this rate his vital organs might last another week on the outside. I’m sorry it’s not pleasant for you to watch, but I have to focus on Yoshi’s case right now, and I expected you of all people to understand.”

Garak opens his mouth to clarify his intentions, but Julian continues on. “You couldn’t even have a reasonable conversation about your concerns. Oh, no, that’s not your style. Why talk plainly when you can use dirty tricks to get what you want? Well, I won’t stand for it. Don’t even _think_ about trying anything like that _ever_ again.”

It does not seem like a good time to point out that Julian is in no position to police his thoughts, so Garak says nothing.

“You will talk to me, do you understand? No manipulation, no tricks.”

“And if I had, would you have sensibly agreed that you do, in fact, require more sleep?” Garak strongly doubts this. Perhaps he erred in his approach, but his concerns are well-founded.

“We’ll never know, will we?” Julian stalks – there is no other word for it – over to the computer. “Now, I suggest you make yourself scarce for the rest of the afternoon.”

The conversation is very clearly over, at least for the time being. Garak puts on his coat and vacates the apartment. It appears he will have time to reinforce trouser knees today, after all. At least Julian got some much-needed sleep.

This setback will require Garak to come up with a new approach to looking after his partner, should a cure for Kirayoshi not be quickly forthcoming, and Julian will be on alert for anything he deems a ‘dirty trick.’ Unfortunately, most of Garak’s best ideas can be classified as such. The man Tain shaped him to be had no need for any skills related to romance or life partnerships. Once that seemed a fair trade for better serving Cardassia. Now it means the man Garak is becoming has a steep learning curve, and he is very fortunate that Julian knows this, accepts it, and wants to be with Garak anyway.

Now if only Julian would accept that working himself into his colleagues’ care won’t do Kirayoshi any good.

As requested, Garak does not return home until the evening, and even then he deems it best to make dinner quietly and let Julian work. Or possibly, if the situation is dire, work and seethe with rage simultaneously, but to his relief Julian’s body language suggests he’s cooled down a bit.

When the sautéed meat and vegetables are done and divided between two plates, he says, “Dinner is ready.”

Julian stands and makes his way to the table, which is an encouraging sign. “Thank you. I do appreciate you taking over the cooking, you know.”

Garak simply nods and starts eating, wary of harming this fragile peace.

Naturally, Julian cannot let the matter rest. He never can. After a few bites he asks, “Did you really think I wouldn’t object to you hacking into my alarm?”

Telling the truth in this case seems hazardous. On the other hand, Garak would like to defend himself, since he didn’t have an opportunity earlier, so he decides to be honest. “If you must know, I thought it would allow you some much-needed sleep without guilt over prioritizing your own needs. In retrospect, the anger is no better.”

Julian sighs. “You had good intentions, I’ll give you that much. Your methods, however, leave much to be desired.”

“You were very clear on that point already.”

After another hastily-chewed bite, Julian finally admits, “As much as I hate how you went about it, and I will hold you to not doing anything like it again,” this punctuated with a wave of his fork, “you weren’t entirely wrong about my lack of sleep. It’s difficult to do medical research when increasingly sleep-deprived. Even for me.”

Garak wonders, not for the first time, how Julian’s difficult relationship with his enhancements might influence his regrettable tendency to ignore his own needs. Thinking that unwise to voice, he instead says, “I can prepare food for you and see to household tasks so you needn’t concern yourself with them. I cannot sleep for you, Julian.”

“I know. This is Yoshi.”

“Yes. Miles O’Brien’s son.”

“And I was his doctor from practically the beginning. It was so close when Keiko was injured and… of course!” Julian jumps up so fast his chair falls backwards, abandoned. “I should’ve seen it sooner.”

Garak doesn’t ask what ‘it’ is. He does allow himself to think perhaps the extra sleep made it easier for Julian to come to the realization.

While the comm connects, Julian starts making notes on a padd. He doesn’t need them, strictly speaking, but he claims the process helps him process his thoughts. (Garak isn’t convinced the note-taking isn’t simply a habit developed when Julian was forced to hide his abilities.) Soon enough he is connected to Earth, apparently on an audio-only channel. Without waiting for a greeting, he asks, “Miles, has Yoshi been around any Bajorans recently?”

“Yeah. We had a couple Bajoran botanists over for dinner about a week and a half ago. Why?”

“I’m nearly certain he’s suffering from an extreme and mutated form of huara.”

“Huara?” asks O’Brien. Garak is similarly unfamiliar with the ailment.

“A Bajoran virus which doesn’t typically affect humans. It’s noteworthy for being much worse on second exposure.”

“He’s never had it before.”

“No. But Kira had just gotten over a mild case before the fetal transplant. Yoshi was probably exposed to enough antibodies in utero for the virus to recognize him as a viable host. And then it mutated in his body to adapt to human physiology.” Julian is pleased with himself, as he always is when he’s solved a particularly tricky medical puzzle. He has every right to be.

“What do we do?” asks O’Brien.

“See if you can contact your guests and have them tested for recent huara to confirm. First cases are sometimes so mild the patient may not know they’ve had it. There’s no cure, but there are treatment options which should help Yoshi’s body fight the infection successfully. I’ll have to revise them for human physiology, of course. Standard antivirals are useless, as we’ve seen. Starfleet Medical keeps a supply of Bajoran drugs, you’ll probably need to request anacelramide from them, but I don’t imagine you’ll have any difficulty getting it. Some Bajoran physicians have had good results with iodine to weaken the virus ahead of the anacelramide, and I’d like to get some in Yoshi as soon as possible.”

“Keiko’s gone to get a doctor to talk with you.”

The medical terms commence in earnest once the pediatric specialist comes on the line, and Garak gives up following the conversation. The important point now is that there is hope for young Kirayoshi.

Hope can be kind or cruel, depending what follows. Time always tells.

* * *

In the morning, Garak exits the bedroom to find Julian speaking with another doctor over the comm. Whatever detailed medical terminology escapes Garak’s understanding, it’s clear that the frantic despair has left Julian’s body language. He is still on edge, but not as concerned as he has been for the past days. The prognosis must be good.

Once the call ends, Julian announces, “The mutated virus started to spread. One of the nurses on Yoshi’s team caught it.”

Garak knows enough about the spread of illness to understand this could be very serious indeed. Chief O’Brien’s son seems to have inherited his father’s propensity for finding himself in dire situations, and starting very young at that. If anyone is going to introduce a new plague to Earth, Garak finds it unsurprising that person would be an O’Brien. As a rule, he doesn’t subscribe to ideas of luck or lack thereof, but even Garak has to admit that the chief is counterevidence for an individual being simply unlucky.

“I trust your theory was correct, then?” he asks.

“Yes.” Julian yawns. Garak has lost count of how many times he’s yawned since hearing of Kirayoshi’s illness. It must be well over two hundred by now. “Testing confirmed it, and I spent all night on the treatment protocol. It’s experimental by nature, but I have high hopes.”

There’s that word again. Humans are fond of it, though Garak thinks when all he has is hope, he is in dire straits. It’s a circumstance he tries to avoid whenever possible. At the very least, he wants hope and something useful and actionable. A disruptor, for instance.

Julian steps close and kisses Garak softly. “Thank you for taking care of me so I could take care of Yoshi.”

“You’re welcome,” says Garak. He ventures to guess this means he is forgiven for his alleged dirty trick, provided of course it is never repeated. “It sounds as though you’ve also single-handedly averted what could have been a nasty epidemic on your homeworld, as well.”

“There are other competent doctors on Earth, you know,” says Julian, the hint of an amused smile threatening to burst forth. Oh yes, he is in a much better mood today. Kirayoshi is probably as good as cured.

“Not according to Chief O’Brien’s frantic communications.”

Julian rolls his eyes. “You’re not supposed to stroke my ego. I’m told by reliable sources that it’s already more than sufficient.”

Garak knows Julian is working to temper this trait, but moderation is not Julian’s strongest point and he might be going a touch too far in the other direction. “Is it arrogance if you truly are outperforming your peers, or a simple statement of fact?”

“Other doctors would’ve figured it out eventually, but it probably would’ve been too late for Yoshi,” agrees Julian, sobering at the thought of his young patient’s demise.

“And possibly many others.” Garak sees no need for Julian to embrace false modesty.

“I don’t have time for this debate. If I go to bed now, I can nap for twenty minutes before I have to leave.”

“I’ll make a breakfast you can eat quickly.” Which is anything, really. The man can scarf down his food in no time. At Julian’s meaningful look, Garak adds, “I won’t even think about altering your alarm.”

“Good.”

Upon returning home that evening, Garak finds the bedroom door closed. They are not in the habit of leaving it in that position, so either Julian got home early, or an intruder paid them a visit. He can’t leave the question unanswered, and Julian is not such a light sleeper that he will necessarily wake up to a quietly opened door, so Garak peers inside. Sure enough, Julian is fast asleep on the bed, long limbs sprawled in such a way as to take up nearly the whole surface area. Such a carefree and human way of sleeping, so very Julian. Once Garak would’ve found it off-putting. Now he thinks it endearing, and shuts the door with a smile on his face.

Some hours later, when Garak thinks he might have found his new supplier of Betazoid chiffon, Julian emerges, stretching his arms. “Something smells good,” he says.

“The soup is ready whenever you are.” In fact, it has been for well over an hour now.

“You didn’t have to wait for me to eat.”

“I know. Was it an unusually slow day at the hospital, for you to be home so early?” It’s definitely a first since their arrival.

Julian looks down, abashed. “I may have been instructed to go home early and get some sleep before I did more harm than good. Don’t say it, Elim. I know I didn’t take care of myself, but it worked out well in the end. It’s not like I had the luxury of time.”

“It may not work out so happily next time,” Garak warns.

Julian has a terrible habit of putting himself last. It’s going to catch up with him one of these days, and Garak dreads that day. Having at last permitted himself a lifemate, he cannot imagine losing Julian and maintaining any semblance of satisfaction with life or indeed chance of finding happiness, so to watch Julian be careless about his own wellbeing is distressing in the extreme.

“I’ll take that under advisement next time, then, provided you raise the point sensibly and don’t go sneaking around on me.”

“I’ve already agreed not to.” Really, it’s high time Julian lets this ill-chosen attempt to help go.

“Then we have a pact,” says Julian. Garak, heartened by the promise of coaxing Julian into sensibility in the future, gratefully decides he need not spell out his fears. That’s always so distasteful.

Julian eats his soup at a leisurely pace, by his standards, and is soon back in bed. Not long afterwards, the comm chimes with O’Brien’s live ringtone. Julian doesn’t come rushing out, so he must be deeply asleep.

Garak is unwilling to face Julian’s ire if the message is serious and he ignores it. He therefore answers. “Hello, Chief.”

“Garak.” O’Brien is perfectly polite, if not warm. That’s fine. Garak doubts he and the chief will ever be friendly, though admittedly stranger things have happened. “Is Julian home?”

“He is asleep.” And Garak does not intend to wake him for anything short of an emergency.

“I didn’t think it was so late there.”

Garak has never been the type to let opportunities go to waste. He couldn’t ask for a better opening to ensure that O’Brien knows exactly how hard Julian has been working for his son. Perhaps, in some small way, this will remind O’Brien just what his friendship means to Julian. “It is not. However, humans are not meant to stay awake for twenty-three hours a day. His colleagues at the hospital sent him home early today with instructions to sleep.” Truly, it’s fortunate that Vadari VII has a twenty-four and a half hour day, or Julian would probably have allotted himself even less time to rest.

“He’s been staying up twenty-three hours for Yoshi?”

“Well, he still had to work his normal shifts.”

“Oh,” says O’Brien, looking like he has more to say but doesn’t care to share with Garak, an attitude Garak cannot fault. So long as he’s appropriately appreciative, Garak is content to let the chief’s inner thoughts remain a mystery.

“Unless your son has taken a turn for the worse, I’d prefer to let Julian sleep.” He puts just the right amount of sternness in his voice to indicate the topic is not up for debate.

“No, no. He’s steadily improving, and the doctors say Julian found the right treatment before any of the damage to his organs was irreversible.” O’Brien, too, looks exhausted. It must have been a very trying ordeal for him, even without the burden of trying to prevent Kirayoshi’s death. Perhaps knowing there was nothing he could personally do was in fact worse.

When Garak says, “I’m glad to hear of his recovery, and will be sure to tell Julian in the morning,” he even means both counts.

“Great. Ask him to call when he has a chance, yeah?”

“I will pass along your message.”

“Thanks. O’Brien out.”

By morning Kirayoshi’s recovery has progressed even further. Julian makes no further mention of Garak hacking the alarm, so Garak decides that particular lesson in conducting a relationship could’ve been worse, all things considered. And he is in the habit of considering all things.

When Garak comes home to a picture drawn by Kirayoshi on display in the kitchen, he decides to put up with the eyesore for an entire week before requesting it be moved. A relationship, he is learning, requires frequent compromise. 

**Author's Note:**

> The author begs your indulgence for any medical inaccuracies. Alien viruses work differently, anyway. ;)


End file.
